Love’s Wisdom Poem by John William Inchbold

Sweet Love forgive, if when I deemed me wise,
I doubted what I could not understand,
With time has come the opening of mine eyes,
And all thy ways prove good as years expand.—
Strange torture is but test of lover's truth,
Sad doubt Love crowns at last with certainty,
Our tears are reaped again in smiles, as Ruth
Reaped all, when love was ruled by Love to be:—
Ill memory is lost in sight of Love,
Love's looks make words tell all the wondrous tale,
And silent presence shall be prized above
All joys, that wanting her in all things fail.—
O Love beneficent, once more forgive,
Make me thine own, whilst I thy true life live.